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Poems (1806)

Polwhele, Richard (1760-1838)

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VOL. I
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Elegiac Pieces.
  
TO A GENTLEMAN, WHO SHED TEARS IN COMPANY ON THE INTELLIGENCE THAT A FRIEND HAD DIED AT SEA OF A FRENZY FEVER.
  
LAURA's RINGLET.
  
IN MEMORY OF THE LATE Mr. RACK, OF BATH.
  
IN MEMORY OF THE LATE Mr. SLEECH, ARCHDEACON OF CORNWALL.
  
IN MEMORY OF THE LATE Mrs. DOBSON, OF EXETER.
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VOL. II.
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LYRIC PIECES.
  
ODE TO SLEEP,
  
ODE ON THE ISLE OF MANN,
  
ODE WRITTEN AFTER A THUNDER-STORM.
  
ODE WRITTEN IN A PICTURE-GALLERY.
  
PART OF THE EPICEDIUM OF REGNER LODBROG, TRANSLATED.
  
ODE ON THE SUSCEPTIBILITY OF THE POETICAL MIND.
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HEROIC PIECES.
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CLAUDIAN's RAPE of PROSERPINE.
 1. 
BOOK THE FIRST.
 2. 
BOOK THE SECOND.
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ADDRESSES.
  
AN ADDRESS, INTRODUCTORY OF Mrs. SIDDONS,
  
AN ADDRESS, SPOKEN BY Mrs. SIDDONS,
  
A POETICAL ADDRESS TO A WIDOW LADY, OVER A DISH OF TEA IN HER HERMITAGE.
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SONNETS.
 I. 
SONNET I.
 II. 
SONNET II.
 III. 
SONNET III.
 IV. 
SONNET IV.
 V. 
SONNET V.
 VI. 
SONNET VI.
 VII. 
SONNET VII. TO A YOUNG LADY, ON HER WEARING A VEIL,
 VIII. 
SONNET VIII. TO A COLLEGE FRIEND; ON HIS EXPRESSING HIS APPREHENSIONS, THAT THE AUTHOR HAD FORGOTTEN HIM.
 X. 
SONNET X. TO THE SAME. [A COLLEGE FRIEND]
 XI. 
SONNET XI. TO THE SAME. [A COLLEGE FRIEND]
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SONGS.
 I. 
SONG I.
 II. 
SONG II.
 III. 
SONG III. THE BLUSH OF SIMPLICITY.
 IV. 
SONG IV. THE FAINTING KISS.
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SONG V.
 VI. 
SONG VI.
 VIII. 
SONG VIII. To Miss S*****.
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EPITAPHS.
  
ON THOMAS POLWHELE, Esq; LATE OF POLWHELE, BY THE REVEREND J. B. C. OF GLYNN.
  
ON TWO CHILDREN OF R. POLWHELE, BURIED IN THE SAME GRAVE,
  
LINES TO THE MEMORY OF BRIGADIER GENERAL HOPE, GOVERNOR OF QUEBEC,

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232

SONG VI.

[See, Laura, how cold are the tints]

See, Laura, how cold are the tints
Of that snow-drop, afraid of the gale,
Though its delicate feebleness hints,
That spring shall soon colour the vale.
Thus sweetly, when Hymen appear'd,
Thy bashfulness sought to retire;
Yet, what it so tremblingly fear'd,
It could not but fondly desire.
And thus, though the lustre was cold
Which slept in thy languishing eye;
Thy virgin timidity told,
That the spring-time of pleasure was nigh!
P.
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